


Fight or Flight

by apostate (394percentdone)



Series: Freedom On My Tongue [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Escape Attempt, the circle uhhhhhh Fucking Sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/pseuds/apostate
Summary: noure escapes for the last time





	Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

> :3

Snow between Noure’s toes, fire in the palm of their hand. Defiance in their eyes. Noure’s ears are twitching in the darkness listening for any sound, any noise at all, to give away those searching after them. A forest in the middle of nowhere, two new moons in the sky with no light to guide Noure’s path through the trees and the brush. Cold and dark and desperate.

Safe. It was supposed to be safe. Noure glances between the shadows of trees for movement and closes their fingers around the burning light in the center of their hand. They will make it safe. 

Heart hammering in the silence and sweat on their palms. The scrape of metal against bark off to their left. A deep breath Noure holds in their chest before exhaling through their nose. This is the last chance they’ll have to make these trees safe.

_ Twin full moons hang overhead and bathe the forest in bright white light. Noure erases their footprints in the gritty lake sand behind them, moving as fast as they can while sneaking with as little noise possible. Near a year of planning in the dark and secret places of the Circle coming to fruition in this moment. Escape, twice over. _

_ Walking for hours through the forest on tattered slippers, moonlight waning into dawn. Noure stumbles in the underbrush trips over an overgrown root and lands hard on the dirt, hands spread. Soon they’ll need to find somewhere safe to rest until nightfall when they can continue again.  _

_ Pushes forward until they spot a tree with gnarled roots and dirt dug away. Not large, not by a long shot, but enough. Noure wiggles inside and replaces the dirt in front of them. Exhaustion pulls at their bones but Noure sleeps with one eye open.  _

_ Wakes to the sound of voices. Loud and bored, ringing through the trees to tell Noure the truth they cannot escape. “Found you.” _

Cold toes digging into the frozen soil Noure grounds themselves before setting the nearest templar ablaze. Wipes the memories from their vision with the sweat beading from their brow. A rough voice breaking the silence to ring through the trees in a horrified shout as the steel of their armor begins to glow red hot, illuminating the two templars on either side. The pop of burning flesh, the sizzle of molten metal, Noure holds themselves still and silent in the middle of a forest under a sky with no light. 

Swords drawn to glint in the heat of what used to be a human. Accepting Noure’s challenge in a handful of slow steps through the darkness the templars advance without direction. And Noure bares their teeth in a hungry smile.

A rustle behind Noure has their ears flicking back for a moment, heart leaping into their throat. Eyes never leaving the templars who stop dead in their tracks, the one in front holding up his hand to silence the other. Noure freezes in place and the fire in their palm winks out.

Breath halting in their lungs before it can give them away. Muscles tensing under their skin. Focus. Steady. If they keep still they won’t be found but Noure has never been good at keeping still.

_ Hands clapping together in front of Noure’s face draws them out of their thoughts with a sharp jerk. “You need to pay attention Surana, this daydreaming habit of yours is wasting time.” Irving’s voice is sharper than the snap which follows it though Noure doesn’t care too much about it.  _

_ “Yes ser.” Not quite rolling their eyes Noure turns their attention back to the equations scattered about the table in between the two of them. “You were saying?” _

_ Irving descends once more into accounts and missing numbers of supplies, differences in the books not adding up, but Noure is already back to planning. Including hiding what they’ve taken from Irving’s careful record keeping. Small supplies secreted away over the course of months, a hidden cache almost ready for the journey. Their last journey. Noure knows they won’t be allowed another chance after this one.  _

_ Tapping their foot without noticing, an irregular rhythm in time with their wayward thoughts. Slipper against stone. A pleasant rustling giving away their lack of strict attention. _

_ “Surana.” Palms flat on the table, Irving’s eyes watching Noure closely as they nod. _

_ “Yes ser?” _

Silence in the dead of night. Whatever made the noise moving on in the darkness, away from the still glowing templar, from the raised swords, and from the racing heart in Noure’s chest. Daring to breath Noure watches as the templars still standing look around for any sign of the source. 

Looking for them.

It must be so hard for them, Noure thinks viciously, to be unable to find their prey effortlessly. No radiant crimson to guide them beyond the remains of their companion this time. Noure made sure of it. 

“Must have been a rabbit.” The one in front begins, “Just not the one we’re after.” In tandem, the pair steps forward through the brush making a rustling of their own. Enough to cover the relieved slump of Noure’s shoulders, the short press of their forehead against the cool bark of the tree before them. If they can surprise them as they did the other, not give away their position. The need to know where Noure is to smite them, but if they’re quick enough…

A hand on the center of Noure’s back has them almost give themselves away. They swallow a scream, jumping out of their skin but there is burgeoning fireball forming in their hand and with a silent terror they turn and strike out behind them. 

Pull short just as the fire illuminates blonde hair and honey eyes. With a finger on his lips, Anders’ eyes are wide and dark, sweat on his temples all Noure makes out before the flames curling around their hand are snuffed out. 

Hopefully before the templars could see them. It’s the only way their captors can track them now, and if Anders found Noure in the dark when he was supposed to be freeing himself of his own templars. 

Perhaps they had hope after all.

_ The basement is colder than the upper levels, a dampness clings to the stone down here and refuses to allow the chill to warm. A deep quiet permeates the halls which are even more labyrinthine than the ones above their heads. This place is not one to linger in. Not for a single moment. _

_ Cells line some of the walls, most empty but Noure avoids the thick stone anyway. They steer clear of the tranquil wandering about as well, folding themselves into corners whenever they hear the slightest noise.  _

_ They’re beginning to run short on time. Counting seconds in their head, scurrying from shadow to shadow down the halls towards the chamber lined with the key to their freedom. A series of stones loosened slowly in the night, a passageway no larger than Noure’s thin shoulders. Pushing through to the sealed room Noure’s breaths come in harsh and shaky pants.  _

_ Crimson and gold, their name etched beside their blood. Noure finds Anders’ phylactery first, Irving did always love to organize. Trembling fingers clasping their own. Their life in their hands for the first time in seven years. Noure’s eyes burn and there’s a quiver through their body but they’re almost out of time.  _

_ Cold metal slipped under their sleeves, fingers clumsy as they return the stones to their place, slippers silent as they all but run back to the upper levels of the Circle. Collapsing on their bed, tears hot on their cheeks as they shudder into the sheets.  _

_ They’re going to make it. _

Two pairs of eyes and two bared swords swing to face Noure and Anders. Hard and glinting, predator’s smiles between steel. “Found you.”

Noure’s blood freezes solid in their veins. Anders’ hand on their skin stiffening as the two templars advance. A stretching of time, blue-white glows on the tip of the templar’s swords and Noure’s heart beats twice in the moment it takes them to raise their hands. Palms out and spread, rage and fear burning through them into a hollow and desperate shout.

“You will not take me!” A cone of fire, no precision in the inferno, erupts from Noure’s fingers. Burning everything in its path and illuminating the forest with cleansing flame. Flickering orange on metal, a sword surrounded by flame. 

Smite forgotten the templars duck out of the way. Quicker, smarter than their fallen brother the pair break in opposite directions, one into the trees and the other just around the side of the fire Noure conjures. “If you come easily it will be better for both of us!” Even and calm, the templar stops pressing forward. Sword still in hand, teeth still bared.

There’s a certain kind of poison in believing honey-covered words. A venom hiding behind pointed canines. Noure knows the templar isn’t lying, it  _ would  _ be easier if Noure held up their hands and called off their fire. It would be easier to be dragged back to the Circle with full knowledge they’ll never make it out. It would be easier on the templar if Noure gave up. 

_ Let it not be said the Circle is kind. Or forgiving. Winter chill creeps through the stones to crawl into Noure’s bones. Rattle them with the force of their shivers, teeth clenching and clattering in the absolute darkness of their cell. There is no comfort, no warmth, only the cruel misty cold and Noure’s lonely thoughts.  _

_ An empty wooden platter with an equally dry cup sits by the door. Remnants of their daily meal, one carefully crafted to be enough for them to survive, but only just. Loosing what little weight Noure had to begin with, flesh pulled taut over bone. The only warmth they could count on now gone.  _

_ One more failed attempt. One more punishment harsher than the last. One more time tasting free air only to be brought to their knees under a clear blue sky.  _

_ It would be so easy to give up now. Noure knows they won’t be given any more chances after this one. One more attempt and if it fails the punishment coming for them is one worse than death. A sunburst brand, lyrium searing the magic from their bones and burning away everything screaming inside them.  _

_ One more time. Noure will escape one more time and they will not fail.  _

_ Not again. _

In the forest lit by their fire, Noure stands tall. Raises their head to meet the gaze of the templar in front of them and closes their hand into a fist. Blunt nails digging into their palms hard. “No.”

“You won’t get away from us  _ maleficar _ .” Spit following his words, the templar raises his sword high over his head. Blue-white once again forming on the tip it’s aimed at the center of Noure’s chest. 

Fire engulfs the templar from the inside out. Eyes bulging and skin turning an ugly berry-red the templar drops his sword to the ground with a clatter of metal on dirt. Opening his mouth to scream only bright orange flames escape with an appalling wet gurgle. A death Noure watches with a sick fascination. A new power humming in their veins in the place of terror. 

Copper between Noure’s teeth and rust on their tongue. Behind them, Anders stands silent and still, ragged breathing to match the adrenaline singing through Noure. One templar standing between them and freedom. 

Blood drips through their curled fingers. Cresent marks on their palm and magic unlike any they’ve channeled before. Noure’s ears flick, the sound of their mentor threading through their spiraling thoughts-

_ “There is no Circle which can hold you, and there is no one in the world who can stop you.” Her wrinkly hands cover Noure’s fresh ones, raspy voice so soft Noure has to strain to hear it. “So you must do it yourself.” _

A lifetime of fear. Seven years stolen. The last templar’s horrified eyes shine in the dying flames of his commanding officer and Noure steps forward. Prey becoming predator and predator now prey in how the templar does nothing more than open his mouth without noise. In how Noure peels their lips back in a smile baring each one of their teeth.

“You want a maleficar-” Copper and rust, crimson trails flowing down their wrists in thin lines. “I will show you a maleficar.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be exploring more of noure's life at the circle eventually, but this is a fleshing out of their Last escape


End file.
